Sanctum (23 page)

He read that last entry to them, feeling the chill in the room deepen as he went. When he finished, he let the pamphlet fall onto his legs. He considered his next words very carefully, then reached into his coat and fished out the young warden’s journal. It wouldn’t be right to hide it; it frightened him, really, that he’d had the inclination to do so in the first place.

“What’s that?” Abby asked, her mouth hanging open a little in surprise.

“I found it tonight. In that first house . . . I didn’t want to say anything in front of Micah.”

“I think that dude is on the level,” Jordan said wryly. “I know I gave him a hard time earlier, but he didn’t have to run off like that so we could get away.”

“Do you think he’s okay?” Abby glanced swiftly between them. “I almost feel like we should have called the police.”

“I don’t know,” Dan said. “The guy is tough, though. I bet he got away. Right now I just want to focus on piecing this all together.” He handed the journal to Abby, who took it with just two fingers, as if it were a smelly dead thing. “I think the warden grew up in that house. I found a hidden trapdoor under a rug with an old tin and that journal. He wrote it when he was a kid. It’s . . . kind of sad, actually.”

“‘Today Patrick went up to the roof. Wake up, Patrick, I said, wake up now and fly!’” Abby read, having opened to a random entry. “‘When he came back down again he was all broken and his head had gone lumpy.’”

“I think Patrick was one of his brothers,” Dan explained. “He talks about wanting to control them. He was being bullied. It’s weird because I’d thought Daniel was the oldest of three. That’s what Pastor Bittle told me this summer. But apparently he had a fourth brother.”

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Jordan cut in. “He was pissed at his brother so he pushed him off the
roof
?”

Dan shook his head. “Not pushed. Hypnotized.”

From the floor, Abby gasped, but it came out half-choked. “Oh my God, he drew a picture of it.”

She held up the book for them to see, and she was right. There, under the short description of Patrick’s fall, was a crude crayon drawing of a boy on his back, his limbs twisted at unnatural angles. The mangled boy wore a striped sweater and too-short pants. Dan’s eyes widened—he hadn’t been seeing young Daniel in his hallucinations. There was one line of writing under the picture.

Patrick will stay quiet now.

Chapter 24

“S
o the warden was an evil creeper even as a child,” Jordan said, taking off his glasses to clean them on his sweater. “Good to know.”

“It goes deeper than that,” Dan replied, a little impatient with Jordan for making light of it. “We knew he was obsessed with preserving his legacy, but it’s about more than that. He couldn’t control his brothers, he couldn’t control Forester, he couldn’t control that Maudire guy he strangled. . . .”

“But he figured out a way to do it,” Abby said. She put the child’s journal on the carpet and pushed it away as if she couldn’t stand to touch it. “He got close with Harry Cartwright during those experiments, and then tracked him down when it was over. Do you think that’s how he ended up returning to Camford?”

“Hmm . . .” Jordan leaned back in the desk chair, bouncing a little. He tented his hands and squinted up at the ceiling. “He gets chosen to participate in covert CIA experiments, he thinks they’re crap—which they were, by the way; they never figured out how to do jack shit with the LSD, if Mr. Chandahar is right—”

“Who on earth is Mr. Chandahar?” Abby interjected.

“My history teacher . . . the conspiracy nut? Anyway, Crazy-Pants Crawford—no offense—”

Dan snorted. “None taken.”

“—manages to subdue Harry Cartwright with drugs and surgery, then the experiments end and Cartwright goes on his merry way to buddy up to Caroline and maybe those other girls, too. Warden Looney Tunes—no offense—”

“Still none taken.”

“—finds out good ole Harry went to Camford to start life as a postmaster, but then the warden shows up and women start going missing and, hey! Do you think that’s where Harry took the girls? To the warden? Maybe he wasn’t at Brookline yet. Maybe he needed test subjects or something.”

Dan shivered, remembering his vision of the warden at Harry Cartwright’s house, so clearly manipulating him. No wonder the man was so docile; Crawford had partially lobotomized him.

“Okay, screw this, I need a snack.” Jordan pushed up from the desk, stretching and yawning. “Ouch. It’s almost one in the morning. I’m going to hit a vending machine. Do you guys want anything?”

“Be careful, Jordan, those weirdos could still be out there,” Abby said. She got to her feet, following Jordan’s example and stretching.

“I’ll be quick,” he reassured them.

“I’ll take a water,” Abby added. “Dan?”

“Water’s good. Watch your back, Jordan, seriously.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jordan insisted, shuffling to the door. “And no, those are not famous last words. My last words would be way more epic. Anyway, if I’m not back in ten minutes, send Wentworth Miller and a cheese pizza.”

Dan put down the notes, rubbing his eyes. He felt vaguely tired—that is, his body was tired, but his mind was still sharp and awake. Something nagged. For all the information they had gathered, the puzzle wasn’t quite complete. Why had Felix wanted them to find all this?

He looked at Abby, who had shifted into Jordan’s vacated chair. She smiled across the aisle at Dan, leaning her chin on one hand.

“We’ve hardly had five minutes to breathe since we got here,” she said. “How are you holding up?”

“This is . . . a lot. I mean, I knew we were dealing with an evil guy but this just goes deeper than I could have imagined.” Dan could feel a headache starting. That’s what happened when he went this long without taking his meds.

“It does seem a bit over our heads,” Abby agreed. “But how are
you
? Outside of all this.”

“I want it to be over. I want to be able to relax again and enjoy my time with you guys. With you.” His cheeks burned and he glanced down at his shoes. “I mean . . . I like spending time with you. I’d like to do it more often. I was really hoping you would get to take me to Lara’s installation.”

“Me too, Dan. I’d like to think that one day when this is over, you and I can see . . . Well . . .” She laughed, shaking her head. “Jeez, talking about LSD and the CIA is easier, go figure. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is: I don’t know what we are right now, but I’d like to find out.”

Dan nodded, grateful that she could articulate what he couldn’t. All he knew for certain was that looking at her made his fears and doubts feel less insurmountable. If that wasn’t the start of love, it was at least something to hold on to. “I’d like that, too. I just . . . The past few weeks it feels like you and Jordan have been distant. Was I just imagining it?”

It was her turn to blush. “I can’t speak for Jordan, but I’ve been scared, you know? I mean, we went through a pretty rough summer together, and it wasn’t totally your fault, but . . . I guess I started to feel like if I wanted to move on from that, I needed to move on from you. Not to mention, I didn’t want to get attached and then watch you go off to UCLA or something. I guess I was just holding back to protect myself, but maybe that wasn’t fair.”

“No.” Dan shook his head quickly. “It makes perfect sense. And I think you’re right to worry and watch out for yourself. Who knows where we’ll end up? Better to wait and see once everything’s back to normal.”

“Normal? You’re hallucinating, I’m hearing voices—maybe normal isn’t in the cards for us right now.”

She laughed, but Dan was distracted, his mind latching on to something she had said. . . .

“What is it? Dan? What happened?”

“My hallucinations,” he murmured, wishing his clumsy mouth would catch up to his thoughts. “They didn’t start until I got here, did they?”

It is not yet perfect, but I have found the secret to creating my own true agents. Control. I have it at last.

“The warden,” Dan blurted, grabbing the pamphlet and flipping pages furiously. “He said he figured it out . . . or got close. He said he could make agents, hypnotize them—that the drug was
part
of it. What if that’s why I’m hallucinating? Listen . . .” He started to read over the journal entry. “‘I have found the secret to creating my own true agents.’ Those agents . . . they could be trying to drug us. They could be doing it already.”

“Who’s they?” Abby asked. Dan was sure this was significant, but Abby didn’t look convinced in the slightest. “Drugging us? You don’t think that’s awfully far-fetched, even after everything?”

“It wouldn’t be hard, would it? We eat food prepared by other people. The drinks are all out of their dispensers. Maybe it’s far-fetched but it’s
possible
.”

“Are you sure you’re not just . . . hoping that’s the case? I mean, wouldn’t you feel better knowing the hallucinations weren’t from you but something else?”

She had a point, but Dan didn’t really stop to consider it. He was already racing ahead, piecing together more and more of what felt like a plausible scenario. “This whole time we’ve assumed the warden’s influence was confined to Brookline, but what if that’s wrong? What if the whole college was in on the experiments? The whole
community
? It makes sense, Abby. How could he keep what was going on covered up unless he had help? Someone had to be running interference for him while he did his experiments at the asylum.”

“Dan, slow down,” Abby said, “slow down. . . .”

“He wanted control. That was always the goal. That was it all along, I wanted to control people, unlock their true potential as interpreted by me.”

“Dan!” She was almost shouting now. Abby leaped up out of the chair and crossed to him, grabbing his forearm and shaking. “Dan! Stop!”

“What?” Dan was out of breath. They stared at each other in tense silence, and then Abby shook his arm, this time more gently.

“You’re talking in first person. Can’t you hear yourself?
I
did this. . . .
I
wanted that. . . .”

That was irrelevant. She was interrupting his line of thinking, and he had to keep the thread. He had to write it all down before he forgot.

“That’s not the point,” Dan muttered, avoiding her gaze.

“Yes, it is, Dan. Yes, it is the point. I’ll be honest, I don’t really give a crap what ‘Warden Crawford’ did forty years ago. I care about
us
, Dan. I care about my aunt Lucy. I care about the people who are still alive, and I came back here to this miserable place so we could all get better and move on with our lives. But you’re not getting better. You’re turning into someone else.” Trembling, she took a step back, as if frightened of who was looking back at her.

“I’m me,” he said, exasperated. “Daniel. Daniel Crawford. I’m . . .
me
!”

“
Dan
Crawford,” she said. It was almost a whisper, and hoarse.

“What?”

“Dan. You never call yourself Daniel.”

Dan felt the wind go out of his sail. He’d become so obsessed with uncovering all the lives the warden had ruined with his influence, he’d lost sight of how
he
was affecting the lives of the two people who mattered most to him in the world. If he kept this up, they wouldn’t have a friendship, they’d have a shared trauma—one that held them together like a lock that had rusted over.

“Damn it,” he said, dropping his head into his hands. “You’re right. I have to keep us separate.”

“From now on we should take some precautions,” she said, still keeping her distance. “Jordan’s coming back with bottled water. Maybe we should only eat and drink things from the vending machines. We’re not here much longer, it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“That’s a good idea,” Dan said. “We can stock up tonight.”

“Dan . . . Even if there is ‘something in the water,’ or whatever, I have to say that for all the nightmares and the voices and stuff, Jordan and I have never experienced anything close to what’s happening to you.” Abby tucked a piece of hair behind her ear with a sigh. “I’m not trying to poke holes in your theory. . . .”

“I know. And you . . . you’re right about that. It’s not a perfect explanation.”

Jordan appeared at the door, his arms laden with bottled waters, Diet Mountain Dew, three bags of chips, and an enormous box of Twizzlers.

“What?” he said at the combined force of their staring. “I’m a growing boy. Here.” He tossed them each a water. “Yikes. You could cut the tension in here with a knife. What’s going on?”

“Dan thinks someone might be trying to drug us,” Abby explained, smoothing down the front of her sweater. Dan silently thanked her for glossing over his outburst. “So from now on, we’re only going to eat and drink things that are prepackaged.”

“Wow.” Jordan slid back into his desk chair and ripped open a bag of Doritos. “That’s . . . that’s a lot to swallow. But better safe than sorry, I suppose.”

“I think maybe this whole thing is bigger than the asylum,” Dan added. “Maybe even bigger than the college.”